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Topic: Ogre Raid Two (Read 10319 times)

King Graeme and his loyal subjects ruled a vast empire. Much of the power of it was located in the Navy and the strength of four hundred airships. They had been made over a miraculous three years and they were now powered by magic, sleeker and faster they cut through the skies with the newly made cannons that hurled fifty pound dense balls that was made with a highly volatile chemical in the hollow center an inch thick which exploded on impact.

It had been a miracle fueled by the ambition and magic of King Graeme who had ruled for only three years. King Graeme had killed the Great Dragon who had poured out of the heavens and had led his Mercenary legions and destroyed the ogres. With that rose the God-Emporer of Abasil, few even called Graeme a god, though only rumours. Graeme in secret, was a demi-god who with a spear at his side, was powerful.

Gatherings of newly found wizards were in the erected Kasmir cities which was called the New Cities. They poured over ancient texts of the Kasmir and populated the almost empty cities. These new High Mages were lords of their individual cities and many of them were corrupt and dangerous, and the most powerful of all the wizards and only answered to Graeme whose powers dwarfed that of any wizard.

But Kellen Tavador, Prince of the fallen Kasmir and Lord of Magic sat in one of the few citied that hadn't been erected far up in the tallest tower looking into a stone pool of blood where stood in a corner soaking in blood was Jermayan. Kellen smirked and circled the ten foot by ten foot pool where dark puple robes with a black sash untied showing underneth black pants and shirt while he wore a black satin tunic."Do you enjoy my pool, Jermayan?"

Jermayan and looked up and was once again shocked by the unassuming pattern of his lord's appearence. The Prince was tall standing at 6'1 that was ended in soft curls at his shoulders. His face was soft and round, very pale. His eyes were electric blue that seemed to make the pool full of warm human blood turn cold." Yes, my lord."

Kellen smirked and looked at the Mage Swordsman, who was 6'4 and had a body of steel. His eyes were glittering black jewels and a wicked, stern face. He had blackest of black hairs that was tied in a top knot to keep it out of the way,"We must prepare the hordes." Said Kellen softly.

The hordes he spoke of were the made of ogres and dark beasts like kobolds, gnomes, and underbeings; skeletons, zombies, and mummies. They had been trained and lived in the city working and toiling great machines to destroy the airships that threatened them and seige machines. The armies were vast and expanded over past the city lands in the surrounding jungles.

Jermayan rose exposed and bare out of the pool blood dripping of him off his head and bowed lowly as the blood came off of him in great rivelets controlled by magic and into the pool."Yes, my lord." He left the chamber and went below to dress as he looked aorund in his chamber. there was a balcony that looked out to the city and came out looking down at the abandoned city.

It had been cleaned up and re-managed and even as he looked on at the early morning he could see the streets were crowded with beasts of all sizes, all of them part of armies, and all them had a job. Some made food, managed the buildings and streets, built new areas, and some were actually working as spies and gained territory by making promises with the corrupted mages. Everything was going well, and soon they would move the hordes south and destory Caladin, this mockery of Kasmir.

Deep within marbled streets of Calan and in the Royal Palace, Lord Jorin Solid and Supreme Commander of the Caladin Calvary made his way into the King's Hall. The Great Hall was massive with a fifty foot high roof with a small window with bright light pouring in. The Royal Guard stood on the edge of the room standing silently and like Sentinels. The stone was look-like gold with a red carpet leading to the throne that was higher up with the queens thrown right beside the thrown room.

Jorin was dressed in his uniform, white-silver light plated armour with a white helm that at the top was a mane of white hair, showing him as a horseman. He had at his side his long sword.

At the throne sat King Graeme, his image having not faded for three years. He wore the soft silk red robes of the king with an awesome silver crown upon his brow. He was leaning casually whispering into his beautiful wife's ear smiling softly as she giggled at something he said. He stopped, noticing Jorin and frowned,"What is it, Jorin?"

Jorin bowed lowly, his nose nearly touching the ground as he raised back up."Word has reached our ears of what is happening in the North. Four of the New City's line of communication has been cut off and High Mage Haldorn says that an army of kobolds and ogres is coming his way and he requests assisstance. Your orders?"

The King stood up and looked down at Jorin who lowered himself more before the King," We prepare the 5th legion, they are to move north as aid to the New Cities and report on what has happened to the communication lines from the four cities. Commander of the 5th Legion is to set a defensive position around Armalieth. If enemy is spotted, he is to engage." Those were the King's words as he sat on his thrown once more.

Jorin rose once more bowed and left. He made his way out of the massive palace and deep into the Sodlier's section where he came to the Soldier's Section of the city and to the Main Barracks. He went inside to the room where the commanders stayed. He came inside as everyone inside became silent," 5th Legion Commander is ordered by our lord to move north. You are to go to Armalieth and report to High Mage Haldaron. After that you are to see what has happened to the communications lines to the cities and set up a defensive position around the Armalieth. If enemy is seen, you are to engage."

The gnome made his way through the dark streets of one of the New Cities. His small stature made him even more confusing to think of as one of the generals of the Dark Lord's armies. He was small as a five year old human with pale skin and black eyes. He had a black thin beard on his chin and upper lip that made him look older then he was. His hair was thinned out and cut short due to many years and his face showed many scars. He wore a black shirt tucked into his black pants with his small boots. At his side was a long knife more like a short sword for a gnome.

Due to a gnome being smaller then most races, the gnomes had to learn special ways to kill, like using speed and flexibility in combat. They had become expert infiltrators and some were even known to be a military genius. Like Jagor was. He was all those including and that was why he was one of the most prized soldiers of the Dark Lord having the largest horde ever, made up mostly of ogre veterens, kobolds, and dark humans. He was extremely happy with his army.

He had made them into a fighting army in ranks that matched even the stern armies of the hated Caladin. They were excellant at what they did, building great machines to destroy the airforce that would certianly challenge them. And all planned by one small being. Now, he had buisness he had to do.

He came to the officers house, of his army. It was a large stone dome building with an opening in the middle where the courtyard was. It was covered in weeds and vines and the gnome, used to the hard earth, despised it. He came through the doors where he met his officers," Word is, that a legion of Caladin soldiers is moving towards us. Our Lord tells us to engage and destroy them. Now! Prepare for war!"

And with that, the assembled officers yelled out battlecries and ran out the door to assemble the army. He would crush this army in the jungles of the north, and people would learn to fear Jagor the Fox.

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Evil Is A Faceless Stranger,Living In A Distant NeighborhoodEvil Has A Wholesome, Hometown FaceWith Merry Eyes And An Open SmileEvil Walks Among Us, Wearing A MaskWhich Looks Like All Our Faces

Graeme sat back in the great throne of Kasmir, a seat of great and terrible power. His rule of Kasmir reborn was going well, but the fledgling kingdom was still beset by enemies. Many of the Caladinese despized magi from years of ingrained teachings, and there had been several rebellions. Some magi that had come forth proved to be corrupted and evil, from the fell spirits that they communed with. Those were struck down, imprisoned and dealt with by the ancient codes of magical law laid down by the elders of Kasmir themselves.

He could converse with the shades of the old kings, bound to the throne and the scepter of the kingdom. He too would become one of these restless shades once his life passed, but that was long years in the future. It would not be long before he would give thought to a child, and heir to the great throne.

An army of kobolde and ogres, fell humans who answered the call of the gods of wood and stone. This was not good, but such challenges were to be expected. They had to be overcome, they were the fire that tempered the blade of the kingdom. Blood again would be spilt, and poeple would die for him. It was the burden of the crimson robes of silk. The robes were the shade of blood to remind the King of Kasmir that his rule came from the blood, and the shoulders of his subjects.

If there was a true army building on his doorstep, the 5th legion would not be able to stop it, only slow it down. He didnt intend to offer them as sacrifice, but the words acceptable losses became a hated part of his vocabulary as of late.

He ran with the other commanders,the blood singing in his ears and his heart thomping like a great war drum in his chest. It had been so long. So long. 15 years ago,his people led by the legendary Heron Feather had thrown off the shackles imposed on them by the hated Calan. Forming themselves into a great army under the leadership of thier charismatic war chief,they had won a great victory against the forces of Calan. But in that very same victory,the seeds of their great defeat had been planted.

The great Heron Feather had fallen in a duel with the dread champion of the Calan and his most wily warrior,Crazy Hawk had been murdered with a missile weapon by a human war leader too cowardly to fight his victime face to face as a true warrior would have done.

In the batles that followed on the tail of this great victory,lack of a capable leader had doomed them,with defeat after defeat. Snake Tail had thrown the lives of himself and his warriors away in a futile assault on the Imperial City itself,the hated nest of the human vermin. Even the Great One,the sacred blue wrym that inpired Heron Feather to lead his people,had failed to bring them victory,defeated by an old weapon of great evil weilded by the same coward that slain his sire.

Yes,for he was the only son of the fallen Crazy Hawk. Charging Boar allowed a grim smile to cross his scarred visage. In the years that followed,thousand of his people had been driven away from their homes,after ripping to bloody shreds the arrogant envoys who had demanded that they become slaves of the Calan. How they had squealed !

And just as it seemed as if his people had been forsaken by the gods,help had come from the most unexpected quaters. Their foes of old had offered to lead them to victory against the vile enemy. An irony worthy of any of the old sagas. Ahh,well,he wasn't complaining. His people would get back their homes after slaying every human infesting them and of course,he himself would get a chance to settle an old score. If the rumours were be to believed,his father's murderer sat on the throne of the Calan,gloating in his treacherous and craven truimph over the brave Ogre People. Let that foul wizard gloat. His hated foe would cease gloating on the day when the gates of his proud city were breached and he would find himself screaming in agony as his innards were ripped out and devoured by one who had come to settle the blood debt of old that lay between them. Until then,that wretched king could gloat.

With that thought ringing in his head,Boar threw back his massive head and let loose a primal roar of savage joy. Under the Fox,he would succeed where Heron Feather himself had failed. Bellowing orders to his force of Ogre warriors and kobbold mercs to form themselves into neat lines,he grabbed the giant spear by his side and brandished it in true Ogre fashion. Let the killing start.

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“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

Jorin Solid did not like the idea of the Legion going all by itself, but he could not do nothing to stop it. Bt he could do something that could protect the Legion in some manner. He made his way out of the Barracks and came deeper past all the streets and to a massive field where, floated just above the ground to knee length were rows upon rows of Airships. A slight wind blew and it made the banner of Caladin flip through the air.

Jorin came to a small building and came inside where he came to face the veteren and once leader of the armies of Caladin. Switz had fought beside the legendary Graeme and he still hadn't changed, except for a few more scars and a little more grey in his hair. He was a small man who looked dangerous with the old style battle armour of Brigadine and he looked tougher in it.

Now he looked more like the Sky Commander he was of the ships, he rose and spoke with the same grating voice he had had for years," Yes, Jorin?"Jorin winced. Switz didn't really like Jorin at all. Switz was cautious and wary of many things, while Jorin was reckless and proud, much like his uncle, Skene Whitewing, who had died in combat during the Great War.

"Have you heard of the order?" Switz nodded," Well, I request a ship to escort the 5th Legion, in order to give support if there is combat." Switz looked thoughtfull and sighed, exasperated. Switz then told to ask of Redden Alt Mer to give his ship and Switz promised he would. There, Jorin now was safe of guilty.

Jagar laughed wildly as the officers surged past them and he joined in the fray yelling out his battlecry. But instead of going out he ran up a flight of stairs to a large room where sat a horn.

Magically inhanced, it would make his voice resonate throughout the whole city. He tried to reach it where it sat poised on a railing over a balcony, but out of frustration he got a stool and crawled on it. There he stuck his mouth to it and yelled,"Soldiers! Form ranks out of the city armoured and ready to move!" He needn't say more.

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Boar watched with satisfaction as his warriors drew themselves into a proud,rigid formation. No foul army of Calan could have done better,he thought as the loud keening of the giant horn reverbarated all around the packed courtyard. The Fox had trained his armies well. Sly as his namesake that little gnome,but an excellent general. Not even the fabled Heron Feather had been able to instill such discipline and precision in his warriors,even though a charismatic and brave war chief he had been. No,the like of the Fox would probally never be seen again,even among the excellent liutenents he had gathered around him such as Boar.

Still clutching his giant spear,he bellowed his orders. ''Be ready to march at any moment now,my warriors. The day we have all awaited is now finally here. Today we bathe in the blood of our vile foes and wipe out their miserable existence. The humans will come to remember this day with great misery and pain! We shall see to that! Our courage will and blood will buy us the victory we deserve!''

A ragged cheer from his men greeted his bold declaration. They were prepared for this momentous event,hulking Ogre and dimunitive kobbold alike. Prepared to shed blood and spill it,confident that victory would be theirs. With the Fox to lead them,how could defeat fall on them?

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“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

The 5th Legion with the airship hovering overhead wandered past the great gates of Calan and moved into the wilderness and past the farmlands. They were a sight to behold. Moving in strict formations they made row after row of 5,000 soldiers. The tumpets and drums in the back played a lively tune as the army sang and marched with all their heart and the airship lit up the sky above the legion as it was led by the Redden Alt Mer the Rogue.

Jagur got on his warlog, a small beast that was built like a bull but had the head of a wolf. It snarled and snapped at people who got too close and only Jagur could control it. He galloped to the front of his army and yelled out in his high pitched voice," This time, we burn down the mockering Caladin! We will take our prize and our land for ourselves and anniliate the humans!" Jagur wasn't a big talker, he was a thinker.

He unsheathed his sword and yelled out as the army started to march out of the city and into the wilderness.

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"They've taken the pass forts, and burned most of the Serath Valley villages. This is playing out like the last time the ogres raided, when all hell broke loose, and the Emperor abdicated to Graeme." Rodel Dragomir said. Rodel was a tall man, with long dark hair, and a mustach that drooped like a large furry creature resting upon his lip.

"There isnt going to be immediate aid from Kasmir, but we've received orders to stall and slow the advancing army until the home legions can be formed. The King doesnt want another battle in the streets of Calan or Kasmir." The bailiff said, resting on the heels of his feet.

"Well then, the king has given us no small order. The 5th legion can do nothing but obey." Rodel said. He unsheathed his sword, a newly forged weapon using the rotes and rituals of Kasmiri metalcrafting. "We trust in the steel."

*****Rodel perched on the back of his horse, a large black beast that was foul tempered and hot under the reins. The beast stamped its hoof impatiently. Rodel spyed the advancing elements of the new ogre army, finding the skirmisher group to be desolate and landless humans. THe worst sort who were driven out of civilization and hadnt had the good sense to die. Wild men. Behind him, the light horse of the 5th were ready. 1000 men and their steeds, armed with steel spears and lances, swords and hooked hammers.

"The illusion will not hold much longer." The wizard Darius said, his knuckles white on the pommel of the saddle. The effort of the spell was obviously straining him.

"It will not need to hold much longer. Remember captains, we smash their ranks, slash at their sides and harry them. Let them retreat. We are stalling, not trying to win the battle." Rodel said. It was a daring, and possibly stupid plan. THey would move as fast as possible, breaking up as many of the pickets as possible, and hopefully the ogres would think they were facing a larger force and draw back to reorganize.

With a battle cry, the illusion faltered, the horsemen fell like thunder on the mountains. The skirmishers, ogre and human alike were driven back, broken before the tide of horsemen. Many lay bloodied and wounded, some horse among them. Rodel took an arrow in the shoulder, but not before trampling over who seemed to be the commander of the enemy force.

Boar watched with growing wrath as he watched he frontal assault of the Fox's army turn into a shameful rout. How could this be? Sure he had expected those human mongrels,traitors that they were,to break and flee at the first sign of real battle. What else could you expect from those dregs that had been cast out from their own filthy society? But to see proud Ogre warriors acatter like that,it burned at his heart.

''My warriors,do not run before the foul sorcery of the humans! Show the scum what stuff we are made of!'' And with that,he begun to organize a counter attack. With their thick wooden shields and long spears,his fighters could make things very difficult for the horsemen. And so they did.

With their guttural war cries,they stormed their way through the fleeing rabble and clashed with the horsemen. Bellowing a fearsome cry,Boar unseated a horsemen that charged at him with his lance and then smahed the man's head with his large foot as he lay stunned.

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“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

The ogres had reorganized, as he expected that they would. In the last battles, the ogres had leaped away from the motley band of savages and had showed disturbingly good tactics. He had been there, had been among the wounded when Graeme struck the dragon.

He lifted his horn to his lips and blew two clear notes. The men responded to the signal, disengaging from the advancing ogres. THey would rely on the speed of their horses to outpace the ogres, drawing their lines out.

It would be a day of crows, but there were many such days to be had in the service of Kasmir.

Boar let loose another ear splitting roar as he watched the horsemen pull away from the fray and flee. ''See how they flee,my warriors! Uanble to face our ferocity,those cowards in their pretty armor turn tail and run. Such is that stuff that humans are made of. T'is a shame that the Fox had to have them lead the assault.''

As he finished his diatrabe,he noticed some of the more excited Kobbolds and Ogres try to pursue the horsemen. He called them back in his booming voice. ''You'll never be able to cacth up with the scum. Let them run. The field of battle is ours now.''

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“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

Jagur yelled out on wrath as he galloped among the army yelling orders,"Form Ranks!" Jagur said softly and he yelled out once more," Archers!" The humans and creatures who could handle a bow notched arrows and raised them,"Fire!" The arrows fell into the retreating backs of the horseman," Advance!" The horde slowly with their weapons infront of them slowly made their way the horseman had gone.

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Helder Ked galloped beside the commander, a long gash running along his fine face that looked hideous now covered in blood. He was one of the many captains in the army, and loved his duty. He glanced at the commander and yelled out suddenly as an arrow pierced his armour and and hit the back of his thigh," They have archers!"

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Boar couldn't help but frown. Distance weapons were for cowards,assasins like the foul wizard that had murdered his sire. Oh well,no doubt the Fox felt it was not beneath his honor to fling the dirty tactics of the humans back at them. Boar thought differently,but the Fox was a gifted general and his War Chief,so he would hold his peace.

He marched towards the now desperate horsemen with his warriors,watching impassively as the horsemen begun to fall in large numbers to the arrows of the Fox's archers. At this rate,he thought with disgust,there would bo no humans for him and his men to kill when they finally reached the human ranks. The Fox was cheating them of a revenge that was rightfully theirs.

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“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

Helder galloped past the infantry to haven as he formed the healthy horseman into ranks. He looked around and unsheathed his sword as the 5th Legion prepared their own archers. This move had been able to kill thousands of ogres during the last war and it would be prooved again. Hundreds of men raised powerful longbows and put three arrows to each bow. Under the order of the Commander they suddenly fired. The arrows blotted out the sun and landed in the ranks of the enemy.

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Jagur yelled out for shields up as the arrows rained down on them. He raised his own round shield as three arrows thudded into it. He kept the army advancing as he went closer to the hated humans in the Armoured turtle tactic. The arrows continued to fall.

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Jorin ordered the phalnxes to be formed and the fifteen foot long spears were lowered in front, making a wall of spears. It could be used as a defensive or offensive move, which one would be decided as both armies continued to advance toward each other.

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“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

Treger Kalm carefully tipped his wine glass, spilling a few drops of the brilliant red wine onto the desk of the airship to gain her favor, and once again leaned over the railing to study the battlefield below. Here, from the relative safety of Captain Alt MerÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢s airship JacobÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢s Doom, Treger could clearly see the 5th legionÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢s archers attempt to attack the rapidly advancing ogre horde. No, Treger reflected, that is no horde! That is an army! He was surprised to note how much the ogres had learned since their last defeat, and he only hoped that they had not fully realized the strategic military value of magic, or his job would be much harder, if it ever came to that that is.

Redden Alt Mer came charging up onto the deck, his face flustered as he yelled out to the crew who were watching the fight below," Prepare cannons!"He said. There was a sudden silence and they all ran to below deck to the galley. It had a dozen cannons, the cannon nine foot long,"Fire into their back ranks!" He said as they started to load the cannons.

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Jagur looked up to see the cannon and snarled with anger. He galloped on his ride to the back of the lines, where sat many catapults and ballistas. He spoke hard to the artillery commander,"Get those cataults and ballistas ready!"

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Evil Is A Faceless Stranger,Living In A Distant NeighborhoodEvil Has A Wholesome, Hometown FaceWith Merry Eyes And An Open SmileEvil Walks Among Us, Wearing A MaskWhich Looks Like All Our Faces

Aisling pushed an errant lock of hair back under her gunner's cap. The crystal lenses were smeared with gunsoot, but she could still see well enough to aim the cannon. She turned a small crank that moved the nine-foot long 'Fair Hammer' in her cradle.

"Load, load heavy!" she shouted, and the two sub-gunners packed two bags of the alchemist's powder into the breech of Fair Hammer, and followed it with a rounded brick of clay cased in paper. Inside were hundreds if not thousands of metal quills. The women and children back at the aerodrome made the shells of mud and paper, sundrying them. "Two, six, HEAVE!" she shouted as the packer rammed the charges home.

She sighted along the bore of the big gun, the only woman gunner in the Kasmir Air Navy. The ogres were everywhere, more than she had ever seen. Her elder brother had fought in the last ogre war, and was personally decorated by the King himself. She muttered the incantation for fire, and Fair Hammer roared in responce.

The entire length of the galley shuddered as six of the heavy guns, the entire starboard broadside leveled their charges. Aisling ducked her head, using the flap of her gunner's tunic to filter clean air from the smoke. Fair Hammer sat six foot back, her holding chains tight. The two gunmen pulled the cannon back into loading position.

Further down the line, cannon 2 had fouled. The crewmen were trying to push the cannon overboard before it blew. Aisling felt the bottom fall out of her stomach, fouled guns were either duds, the powder bad, or they went off like blasts of dragon's flame. A few of the weaponsmiths were working on making such a weapons, but there was not much success, even the best designed ones had a bad habit of being unweildy and prone to unstable behavior. She caught a whiff of hot powder...

"Clear the deck, all hands down!" she could almost feel the heat growing in the breach of the long cannon. The two gunmen redoubled their efforts to hurl the weapon from the ship, but each cannon weighed nearly six-hundred pounds. With an ear-shattering blast, the cannon fouled completely. Aisling was hurled across the gundeck, and two of the starboard cannons were lost overboard. She shook her head, trying to clear the fuzz from a head hit. Smoke and burning wood was everywhere. There was too much blood, the two gunmen had been literally blown to bloody bits.

Jacob's Doom shuddered and listed hard to the starboard, a good section of the hull blown away by the blast, smoke billowing from her side. "Cannons up, cannons up!" Aisling said, wiping blood from her crystal goggles. She pulled them down, and started reloading Fair Hammer herself. "Come on you bastards! We've all seen misfires before!" she shouted.

She took a step to grab a packed shell and was horrified to find herself standing in the remains of the former Cannonneer Officer, his body torn in half by the blast. She swalled her own bile...she was now the ranking officer in the starboard gun deck.

"Men, you...you," she picked out two men in good shape. "Find the wounded, and sort out the dead, quickly." She pointed at a smaller man with a bloody gash on his head. "Staunch that wound, and see about putting out these little fires before a powder bag lits off, and be real quick about it!" she shouted over the ringing in her own ears.

"Our finest hour boys!" she shouted as Fair Hammer was pulled back into place. She sighted again, pausing for a second as her vision doubled. She sighted what looked like an ogre sub-chief, decorated with skulls and feathers. "This one's for Calan!" she shouted as she let the fire loose into the big cannon.

*****"She's not responding well," the navigator said, correcting for Jacob's sudden list. Some of the control surfaces must have been damaged, them cannon are tempermental, i wouldnt be surprised if every one of those poor d**n bastards are dead." he said. Then there came a second, albeit smaller, barrage of fire from the remaining starboard guns. "Mercy be..."

Redden Alt Mer gritted his teeth together hearing what the navigator had to say," We'll have to pull back to the neartest city for repairs, if we don't the ship will go down." He said and saw the smoke from the blasted deck. He ran down to see the massacre and swallowed heavily. He yelled out to the passing officer to get ready the wounded onto the top deck.

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Jagur grinned as the large and several twangs and snaps that the ballistas and catapults worked. Dozens of arrows, some ten feet long and two feet wide, and boulder weighing all at least a ton hurtled towards the damaged airship. What didn't hit it fell back to earth and into the enemy. What didn't hit the starboard side with enough force to smash through it. But right before he heard the cannons go off. They came right towards the artillery field and Jagur yelled out for his walrug to get out of there.

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The cannon balls slammed into the artillery rounds and large explosions went off all around and immeditately fire leapt around engulfing ogres and and other people alike as the artillery was burned to cinders.

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Aisling looked up from her cannon, an officer shouting for the ship to withdraw from combat before she crashed. Blood trickled down her cheek, reminding the gunner that she was indeed wounded. Flames billow from the ground, ammunition stores and ogre alike blazing fitfully. Somehow she felt like she should be proud, but they were withdrawing, she felt a pique of shame that they would give up the field while still able to fight. Hadnt they fought tooth and bloody for the walls of Calan?

She ignored the officer long enough for the packer to prime the cannon for her last shot. "This one is for my father, you bastards," she whispered and let the fire loose into the cannon. Fair Hammer roared for a forth and final time, spewing a deadly storm or metal shrapnel across the ogre lines. Dozens fell, some struck dead as the spines pierced their eyes and penetrated into their small brains. Many others were felled, wounded and screaming in an unwarrior like fashion. Aisling wished that she could make all of them suffer like that, as her father had suffered before he was tossed into a cookpot to feed the last ogre invasion.

"We're too heavy..." she said as the ship made its lumbering way through a turn. "We will crash if we dont loose some weight quickly."

"Dump the cannons and the powder!" one of the gunners said.

"Quickly men, pack those cannons and make sure they foul. Lets get some match-fuses and see about giving those d**ned ogres some desert." They laughed grimly as they packed the cannons with too much powder, and made sure that the shells were over-packed and jammed in the muzzles. Others not wounded stuck the match-fuses into the mouths of the powder kegs, and made sure that no flame would hit the powder early, using their shirts as seals.

Aisling quickly lit the keg fuses and the men began tossing the surprises overboard. Massive explosions rocked the ship as alchemists powder exploded by the ten-pound. The cannons were more stubborn, resisting until it seemed the men had nothing left. One, the former number 6 cannon burrowed halfway into the ground before its fuse struck powder. The ogres were surprised by the rude metal phallus appearing among their ranks, and even moreso when it exploded in a hailstorm of metal death.

Jacob began to respond better as she lost weight in her wounded starboard side. Aisling and the surviving crew left their posts and made their way to the top deck. Of the 36 men who manned the guns, 18 were lost or accounted among the dead. Of the 18 survivors, all save two were wounded and six of those would not see the sun set before their wounds claimed their lives.

"It is my dishonor, captain, to report the fouling, and destruction of the number 2 cannon and the full and complete loss of three gun crews. We did fire 13 times into the enemy before jettisoning the cannon and powder, sir." She said, her head starting to spin, and her eyesight getting fuzzy. She would have to see a healer, the knock on the head might be more serious than she gave credit.

As Aisling collapsed onto the deck and was carried to the top deck with the other wounded, Treger glanced past her now still form to Redden Alt Mer, who gave a quick nod, and glanced away, trying not to make eye contact. Treger was used to that, not many people could stand to look at the scaring on his face for very long, and no one liked his job, but sometimes one must simply follow the old saying: 'My enemy's enemy is my friend.' He had his orders, and the CaptainÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã¢â€žÂ¢s permission, as reluctant as it was, as so he left the bloody top deck, and climbed down into the lower hold, and through the door into his rooms, a section of the ship that was added on, and looked like cancer from the outside. Only 3 ships in the whole air fleet had holds like this, and Treger was there to make sure that everything went off without a hitch.

Redden Alt Mer nodded to her and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder."Go see a healer. You did what you had to do." He was in a little daze as he left the navigator and went down to where the wounded were being put, walking among them and saying to some that he could some good words as he went to one after another, ones who were still able to hear or ones who weren't knocked out.

He walked oevr to the healer, a spry little elf who during the last war had been an Anawaith Ranger and who had stayed in Caladin for he ahd loved the land, as did Redden," What's the casuality toll." The healer nodded and spoke quickly," We have twenty four dead and some thirteen wounded out of a crew of a hundred; ten will die because of their wounds before nightfall, captain."

He nodded and sighed shaking his head," So that's thirty four dead. d**n! We'll be lucky if we reach a city before we fall like a rock from the sky." He nodded once more and shook his head.

Logged

Evil Is A Faceless Stranger,Living In A Distant NeighborhoodEvil Has A Wholesome, Hometown FaceWith Merry Eyes And An Open SmileEvil Walks Among Us, Wearing A MaskWhich Looks Like All Our Faces

“I'm yet another resource-consuming kid in an overpopulated planet, raised to an alarming extent by Hollywood and Madison Avenue, poised with my cynical and alienated peers to take over the world when you're old and weak.” -Bill Watterson

OOC - Such a death would not be worthy of an ogre of such importance, however getting blasted to ogre-guts would be a nice fate for a glory-hungry rival. I wouldnt stoop so low as to take a potshot at a named character with a cannon. Mag, still waiting on you in VBC.